


Kitty!

by Ramtops_Witch



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramtops_Witch/pseuds/Ramtops_Witch
Summary: Due to a Spell Merlin is turned into a Cat Person.





	

Arthur was…not at his _best_ in the morning. Of course, his worst was far better than most people’s best, but he could be excused for not immediately noticing that there was something odd about Merlin, as Merlin was frequently odd and even the Prince couldn’t be bothered to keep track of the permutations of that oddness. This morning Merlin was blessedly silent… weirdly silent. Creepily silent. It was the continued silence that aroused Arthur’s interest. It was Merlin’s face that caused him to pause. He looked like a mummer. “Are… Do you have _ears_?”  
  
Merlin nodded, eyes wide and with an odd smile on his face. The black cat ears atop his head twitched.  
  
“Well, I mean, I know you have…is that a tail?!”  
  
The tail that had been trailing shyly behind Merlin, but now peaked out to wave at Arthur. Merlin nodded again. Arthur resisted the urge to wave back at the tail out of sheer bewilderment.  
  
“Why aren’t you talking?”  
  
Shrug  
  
“Can you talk?”  
  
Shake of head.  
  
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”  
  
Innocent blink.  
  
“Don’t give me that look. Did you eat something?”  
  
Innocent eyes, shake of head.  
  
“Insult an old beggar woman?”  
  
Shake of head, angry twitch of tail.  
  
“Then what did you do?”  
  
Two hands under cheek. Ok, that was…closed eyes, snoring noises. Sleep. Open eyes. Twitch ears, dopey smile.  
  
“You woke up like this?”  
  
Nod.  
  
He’d have to tell his father his idiot servant had been cursed. They would have to hunt down the sorcerer who….turned…manservants into cats… Arthur really wasn’t sure why you would turn someone into a cat-person. Merlin was trying to poke Arthur’s fire into renewed life but kept getting distracted by flying sparks, which he would chase until he set his coat on fire. Thankfully he managed to get only slightly singed, although the coat was a complete loss. Merlin was now crouched behind Arthur, hissing angrily at the fireplace. At least he did until Arthur laughed at him, and then he stood up and stalked over to Arthur’s bed. Crawled up onto the bed, curled up across the pillows, and scowled sulkily at Arthur, tail twitching angrily. It should be illegal for his manservant to be so cute.  
  
Arthur did not want to pet his manservant, he’d kill anyone who said otherwise. No matter how soft his fur looked, or how much Arthur wanted to see if he could purr.

***

  
  
Arthur had sent Merlin back to Gaius before going off to train with his knights. He returned to the sight of a very excited, very large group of court ladies. Cooing court ladies. The knights moved closer together. This could only be a bad thing. Arthur straightened his back and strode forward to see what they were cooing over. He was the Crown Prince of Camelot. He feared nothing.  
  
His manservant was at the center of the group, chasing a piece of silk being dangled by Morgana. Arthur might have to expire with shame.  
  
Merlin paused briefly to stare at Arthur and gave that ( ~~adorable~~ stupid, ugly, dopey) grin of his and Arthur didn’t melt. That would be weird and definitely behavior unbefitting a prince.

***

  
Merlin was stalking the silk. He had never understood Arthur’s obsession with hunting until now. He would get that silk. And he would rend that silk with his claws. Teasing, flying. Pounce. Oh, silk you never saw it coming, you have been defeated silk. Merlin was the most vicious hunter ever, all should fear him because he was vicious. And ferocious. And dangerous, and ooh! What’s that?  
  
Arthur was not fun to pounce on when he was wearing all his armor. It was very shiny armor. Upon reflection perhaps immediately trying to gnaw on the dancing light was a bad idea. Metal was not very good tasting, nor was silk, he should start chasing tasty things. Like, Arthur. Or pie. Or Arthur with pie. He backed away, whimpering, and was immediately engulfed in the arms of cooing females. He curled up on the soft one and twitched his tail. As Arthur was not soft, but also did coo quite so much, or at all. He wanted to see if Arthur would coo, just for…novelty…sake. Ohh…  
  
A gentle, long-fingered hand began to caress his ears and Merlin could feel his muscles relax, a low rumbley purr came out. He stretched out to his full length on a row of silk-covered laps, limp and content.

***

  
  
Arthur had engaged in many a glaring match with Morgana throughout his years. Nothing in all that time could equal the sheer ferocity of his current glare, focused on the bevy of the most beautiful women in Camelot. Who were shamelessly taking this opportunity, of the horrible curse placed upon his innocent manservant, to…caress Merlin. Who seemed to have _melted_ on their laps and was purring. For them. Not Arthur. His kitty manservant. _His._  
  
  
His father’s voice snapped him out of the (rather one-sided. They feared him. None of them dared so much as look up from Merlin) staring match. “What,” The King paused for effect, “is going on here?” He demanded, striding up. The women didn’t seem too intimidated. Clearly, Merlin’s cuteness was undermining the royal authority and he should be removed from their presence. For the good of the kingdom.  
  
“Someone turned Merlin into a cat person,” Arthur informed him. He resumed glaring at the ladies. “This particular situation I’m not sure the cause of.” Something in his tone must have triggered something for Merlin because his head snapped up and he _**s**_ _ **t**_ _ **ared**_ at Arthur. Arthur suppressed a shiver at the sheer intensity of that stare and stood perfectly still as Merlin rose with far more grace than he could ever even dream of normally possessing, and moved over to Arthur, rubbing his body against Arthur’s, curling around him. Arthur stood as still as he could and tried not to…ah…react.  
  
Morgana spoke, “Aww, he’s scent marking Arthur.” This was greeted with collected exclamations of aw from the women. Arthur was not freaking out. Not excited. Not worried. He was calm. Stone.  
  
Gwen, dear, sweet Gwen, spoke as if explaining to the world in general, “Cats rub up against people they like to show that they acknowledge them as pride and not someone to be run out of their territory.”  
  
Ha. Merlin hadn’t scent marked any of his female admirers. Only Arthur. The (secret) warm fuzzies that stemmed from this remained unabated by his father’s predictable insistence that the sorcerous attack on his ‘remarkably loyal servant’ was clearly an attack on Arthur and by extension all of Camelot.  
  
Arthur nodded agreeably and didn’t mention his theories about the detrimental effect of Merlin’s cuteness on royal authority. It might get Merlin locked up. Also, he would then have to insinuate that he found Merlin cute. In any situation. Ever. To his _f_ _ather_. Besides, the note Merlin brought from Gaius assured him that these things generally wore off on their own.  
  
His calm remained until Merlin started chasing his own tail. But at least his response was outweighed by the widespread one. They probably would have retained _some_ dignity if Merlin hadn’t decided to tease Morgana with his tail like she had to him with the silk.  
  


***

That night Merlin fell asleep with his head in Arthur’s lap in front of the fire. One of his feet was on the mantle, the other leg on the table. It was one of the more awkward poses Arthur had seen in his lifetime. Merlin appeared to be completely comfortable. They were alone. And Merlin was asleep. Arthur gave into temptation and allowed himself to scratch at the soft fur behind Merlin’s cat ears. Said ears twitched, and Merlin began to purr.

When Arthur woke up he was being ruthlessly snuggled. Arthur had never really seen snuggling as an aggressive action before. Of course, before he didn’t have Merlin sprawled out on his chest, limbs entangled with his, tail curled possessively around his waist.  
  
Still a cat then. Arthur reached out absently to caress silky cat ears, and Merlin nuzzled happily against his hand. Blue eyes opened and blinked contentedly at him. Then Merlin slid up Arthur’s body, and started…licking him. His tongue was slightly rough like a cat and he purred.  
  
Arthur tried to move away from the…gross obviously it was a gross sensation. Merlin was _l_ _ic_ _king_ him. Who—who would want that? Not Arthur to be sure. Servant spit. Merlin moved to hold him down, like a mama cat with a recalcitrant kitten. Arthur wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not. Then Merlin purred, “Mine. Arthur. Mine.”  
  
“You can speak!” He shouted, startled. Being in bed with a cat that looked vaguely like Merlin was one thing, but if he could speak than he was Merlin with a cat ears and tail. He pushed Merlin off of him.  
  
Merlin hissed at him. “Mine. Warm. Mine. Rude. Bad Arthur.” His tail lashed.  
  
“Why are you talking funny?”  
  
“Hard.” Merlin pouted at him. It looked odd; the faint trails of whisker marks on his face, blackened nose, and Merlin pout. Although, now that he was looking, the whiskers seemed fainter, the nose too. Perhaps it was wearing off?  
  
Then Merlin’s eyes widened and he focused on something behind Arthur. Arthur turned but all he saw was the bedcurtains. Merlin backed up on all fours, wiggled his butt, and pounced. He appeared to be attacking the curtains and ended up pulling them all down with him.  
  
For a while all Arthur could see was curtains, moving seemingly on their own. If Merlin got defeated by a curtain Arthur was going to die of shame. Just on principle. Eventually Merlin emerged, part of the curtain in his mouth, clawing at more of it with both hands and feet. He couldn’t help but laugh, “What are you doing?”  
  
Merlin looked up at him and tried to speak around the curtain, “Merlin Ferocious.” At least that was what Arthur thought he said, and he gave his head a shake to prove his point. Arthur would be teasing his manservant about this for _years_.  
  
Suddenly Merlin’s ears moved. Which was weird (and cool). He perked up and looked at the door. “Food?”  
  
A knock came on the door.  
“Food? Foodfoodfoodfood.”  
  
Arthur sighed. “Come in.” Random Male Servant Arthur Couldn’t Be Bothered to Even Really Look At, came in with two platters. One of which was definitely intended for Merlin. It had all meat, and a saucer of milk. Merlin sat on his haunches and stared at the boy, tail swishing behind him. Until the platter with his food was placed on the table. Then, with a grace that he never possessed in his human form, he leapt on to the table and began to messily devour the meat. Arthur waved the servant off and tried to have his own breakfast while pretending that Merlin was actually a cat and thus this wasn’t weird.  
  
He knew that Merlin had finished his own food when a curious face poked itself into his food. “Hey.” Merlin ignored him, sniffing at Arthur’s food and generally being in the way. Crouched awkwardly, butt in the air, tail swishing lazily. He licked Arthur’s cheese. “Hey. That’s mine. You have your own food.”  
  
“All gone. Tummy. Nummy. Food. Food? Nummy. Have?” He gave Arthur the most pitiful pleading eyes Arthur had ever been on the receiving end of. And that said a lot.  
  
“Mine.” Arthur really, really couldn’t be blamed for the fact that he gave in when the pleading eyes increased in strength. Clearly this was a strange side effect of the spell.  
  
Merlin chewed on the cheese happily, and then gave Arthur’s hand an affectionate lick. “Favorite.”  
  
“Yeah, I bet you say that to anyone who’ll feed you.”  
  
“No. Mine. Favorite.”  
  
Arthur felt something warm curling in his belly, like good liquor or a nice hot tea after a cold ride. He bit viciously into his bread.

 

****  
  
Merlin seemed capable of some basic tasks and disinclined to groom him further, so Arthur let him trail along. After all, clearly it wasn’t safe to leave Merlin Cat to his own devices. He’d find Merlin in a huddle of women before Arthur could blink, which would be…demeaning to Merlin, or the women, or someone. Besides, he shouldn’t get the ladies’ hopes up, given that he was Merlin’s favorite and what-not.  
  
Merlin did fine, except he was constantly distracted by things, kept trying to attack Arthur’s armor, and distracted Arthur’s knights. It was one thing to see court ladies gathered around Merlin cooing and petting. Battle trained knights should not do the same. It was weird. What would they do in battle when they saw a cat? Drop arms and cuddle it?  
  
He tried to take Merlin out into the woods. Surely with his new interest in hunting, they could actually catch something for once. Unfortunately, Merlin was only interested in catching the butterflies that danced around his head. He leapt, twisted in mid-air, and in many ways resembled a performer in a traveling show. Arthur tried not to be entranced by the lean body that was twisting and turning before his eyes. Clearly, the Evil Sorcerer who had cast this spell was whole new depths of Evil, and they still didn’t catch anything to bring home. Well, they did, but Arthur refused to be proud of a butterfly, no matter how much Merlin strutted when he’d dropped it at Arthur’s feet. Arthur did not praise Merlin, no, he just was happy that Merlin was beginning to go after more manly pursuits. Even if he did do it in an excessively girly manner.   
  
“You caught a…butterfly.”  
  
Merlin nodded and swished his tail. “Prey.”  
  
“And you’re giving it to me.” Arthur checked, picking the dead bug off the ground.  
  
Merlin nodded again and proceeded to rub, no, scent mark Arthur again. “Pro…vide.” Merlin purred and finished his marking with a hard rub of his cheek against Arthur’s hip.  
  
“I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to catch something-“ He was about to say useful, but Merlin was staring up at him, and still looked so bloody proud that he cleared his throat and substituted, “-bigger.”  
  
“No.” Merlin looked around, “Merlin fierce,” and he managed to catch a toad and wouldn’t be content until Arthur said he was a “hunter with promise” and scratched his ears. He then freed the slightly bewildered and bruised toad.  
  
“Provide.” Merlin repeated. “Kittens.”  
  
“What kittens?” Arthur looked around like magical, flying kittens would somehow appear.  
  
“Kittens.” Merlin repeated, and rubbed up against Arthur.  
  
“What? No! We are not having kittens! I mean, I know peasants have some backward beliefs, but didn’t you learn anything about this sort of thing living with Gaius?”  
  
“Kittens. Mama.” Merlin rubbed up against Arthur more, twining around him in a wholly inappropriate way.  
  
“I am not the Mama! There are no kittens!” Merlin just rubbed up against him more and then chased a leaf.

***

  
Arthur was training his knights and judiciously ignoring all of the squires that were using sleigh bells to play with Merlin. Sudden silence fell as Arthur began to engage in actual combat. Apparently, he was more interesting than bells. He tried not to be too proud of that fact. As he was the prince and he had some standards. Winning tournament—thing to be proud of; being more interesting than bells, not a thing to be proud of.  
  
Merlin was perched on the sidelines, tail lashing, focused on Arthur. Arthur walked off the field and over to Merlin, trying to decide if he should dump his armor on Merlin like normal or if that was just asking for trouble. He wasn’t anticipating an armful of affectionate Merlin. “Arthur vicious,” Merlin informed him, running a rough tongue up Arthur’s neck approvingly.  
  
“Well, yes, of course, I—stop licking me!”  
  
Merlin pulled back. “Not like? Groom. No?” His ears drooped sadly. “Mad. Mad at Merlin.”  
  
“I’m not mad at you; I just don’t want to be licked!”  
  
“Clean.”  
  
“I bathe.”  
  
“Better.”  
  
Arthur remembered a time when he wasn’t one of the most popular forms of entertainment in Camelot.

****

  
  
Arthur found Merlin curled up in front of the fire, covered in kittens. It said a lot that his first response was “Not mine!”  
  
Merlin looked up and blinked at him. “Food?”  
  
“Where did you get those?!”  
  
“Mama.”  
  
“I am not their mother!”  
  
Merlin pointed to himself. “Mama. Food?”  
  
Arthur really wished he could be fully certain that Merlin had not _actually_ had kittens. He was a boy cat, and had only been one for a day. But then again, _his manservant had been turned into a cat-person_ he couldn’t be reasonably certain that anything was impossible.  
  
“Food?” Merlin looked up at him.  
  
“Get your own food.”  
  
“Kittens!”  
  
“They’re not yours!” Hopefully.  
  
Merlin groomed one of the kittens forcefully. Tail lashing as he ignored Arthur.  
  
Arthur had never been ignored with such force before. He sat down in his favorite chair and did not sulk. He did paperwork. At least he did for a little while before Merlin rose carefully from the hearth and jumped up on the table, several of the kittens riding on his head and back and one in his mouth. Merlin proceeded to sprawl on Arthur’s papers.  
  
“I’m reading those.”  
  
“Not anymore. Merlin groom Arthur. Arthur pet Merlin now.”  
  
“What? No. I’m not petting you!”  
  
“Mean.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Mean.” Merlin turned away from him, tail lashing. Undaunted several of the kittens moved to climb on Arthur.  
  
“Not mine!” Arthur shouted again, trying to dislodge one and getting bitten for his trouble.

  
Merlin laid his head on his hands and swished his tail. Refusing to move or look at Arthur. Finally, Arthur stalked out.  
  
When he finally returned Merlin was alone.  
  
“Where’d the kittens go?”  
  
“Mama. Took.”  
  
“Aha. So you weren’t their mama. Oh god, I can’t believe you ever made me say that.”  
  
Merlin just laid his head on the floor and stared out into the distance.  
  
“They weren’t yours. They belong with their mum.”  
  
Sigh.  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
Merlin’s ears were drooping, eyes wide and sad. He hunched his shoulders, tail limp next to him. Arthur paused and then sighed. He knelt on the floor and rubbed Merlin’s cat ears. Merlin nudged his hand. “Miss kittens.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”

***

  
  
“Not a single word about this.”  
  
“Yes, sire.”  
  
Arthur tucked the filthy, shivering, scrawny kitten into his coat and marched back to the castle, ignoring the badly hidden smiles of his guard. See how much they liked having a sad Merlin cat staring into the distance.  
  
Merlin had greeted the kitten with great happiness, seeming torn between Arthur and the kitten. Arthur was rather thrown by how ridiculously easy Merlin was.

***

  
  
Merlin stalked into the kitchen, now clean kitten riding on his head. The cooks in Camelot were famous for their hard-bitten edge. But Arthur was quickly losing his faith in anyone being able to resist Merlin’s Magical Kitty Wiles. So he really wasn’t surprised to find both Merlin and the kitten gorging themselves on the finest cooking in the kingdom.  
  
He really had no explanation for the rabbit, though.  
  
Merlin was cuddling the rabbit close to his chest with one arm. Arthur wasn’t an expert on cats, but he was pretty sure that they ate meat. Not cuddle. Eat. The cooking staff was gathered around Merlin. Arthur really wondered what was wrong with the entire castle of Camelot. It wasn’t like Merlin was _that_ cute. Uh. That is. At all cute. There was no cute. None.  
  
“Merlin, where did you get that rabbit?” He demanded.  
  
“Bunny. Gave.” Merlin cuddled the rabbit harder.  
  
One of the cooks broke in to explain. “The rabbit was destined for the stewpot sire, but…Merlin was distressed and insisted it was his. We didn’t see any harm in it.”  
  
“Mine. Sir Thomnas. Mine.” Merlin looked at Arthur. Arthur looked at Merlin.  
  
“You’re responsible for it. And I won’t have you shirking your duties over some stupid rabbit. Also, if it eats anything important, I eat _it._ ”

***

  
  
Sometime after dinner, Arthur was busy with very princely tasks. He was thus totally unprepared for the sudden weight of Merlin. “The hell? Get off me. I’m not petting you.”  
  
“Tired.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Tired. Sleep now.”  
  
“Not on me!”  
  
“Sleeeeeep.”  
  
“Bed!”  
  
“Arthur.”  
  
“You sleep on the bed. Your own…preferably.”  
  
“No. Arthur. Sleep.”  
  
“I have things to do.”  
  
Merlin didn’t answer him, being already asleep. Arthur considered dumping him on the floor. He did. He considered it really, really hard. But…he wasn’t _t_ _hat cruel_. And it wasn’t that he wanted his manservant in his arms or anything. It was just that if he dumped Merlin on the floor they’d have to argue about it, Merlin would tell Morgana, it really was just easier to carry Merlin to his bed. At least Arthur didn’t have to worry about getting cold in the middle of the night.

Arthur really wasn’t sure how he woke up cuddling with his manservant. He was quite certain he had gone to bed with Merlin curled up by the hearth with Sir Thomnas and Lady Dedee. When he woke up Merlin was curled all around him, like a blanket he’d gotten tangled in during a rough night. Except for the part where Merlin was not a blanket, but his manservant with cat ears and a tail. He frowned and noted that Merlin was not just curled around him, but his pillow felt suspiciously soft and furry, meaning he’d been sleeping _on_ his manservant, whilst said manservant’s _tail_ was curled possessively around Arthur’s wrist.  
  
His face was clear of cat markings, and Arthur hoped this would signal the end of the Kitty Merlin escapades, and they could return to a sane court that did not coo over his manservant and a Merlin who didn’t try to groom Arthur. Honestly, he was looking forward to not being licked by Merlin. He was, certainly was, he enjoyed no part of that, did not think about it in any sort of positive light. No, it—it was…disgusting. Yes, disgusting, who knew where Merlin’s mouth had been? ...that was a line of inquiry he would not pursue.  
  
It occurred to him that Merlin was at least mostly human by now, and so had no excuse to be curled up to Arthur like a cat; clearly he was now functioning at his normal level, which was not exactly high performance, but he could at least be held accountable for his actions, such as cuddling the Crown Prince. And never before Merlin did Arthur have to consider cuddling the Crown Prince to be an action that someone would need to be accounted for. _Most_ people had some concept of boundaries and propriety and didn't even look like they were considering possibly someday cuddling him (excepting some ladies looking for an advantageous marriage). At this rate his knights would be looking to get a hug before battle and then Arthur might as well borrow one of Morgana's rarely worn frilly dresses (discarded at fifteen for slinky ones) and get Merlin to do his hair like Morgana and Gwen did. Spending hours in the bath....working on Morgana's coiffure. And Arthur didn't want to spend hours with Merlin in the bath, (he didn't! Honest! They'd get wrinkly! Wait). So Arthur pushed Merlin out of the bed.  
  
Merlin fell with a squawk and an angry hiss, arms wind milling in a rather deeply hilarious fashion. Odd—Arthur didn’t remember the spell turning Merlin’s eyes gold— but then they were blue again, so he must have imagined it, or it was some sort of odd magical cat thing, who knew with Merlin? Merlin’s ears were pinned back against his scalp as he barred his teeth, tail lashing. Arthur looked at him unrepentantly, and moreover, unimpressed, so what if Merlin had sharper teeth? Arthur could take him.  
“I have no idea where you got the notion you could just climb into my bed whenever you wished, but I want to make it clear that it was a misapprehension.” Arthur sniffed, “You have a bed.”  
  
Merlin glared at him, tail still lashing like a wind caught in a heavy wind. Finally he spat out a clear, entirely Merlin-sounding: “arse.”  
  
“That’s Prince Arse to you.” Arthur grinned, so pleased by the fading enchantment that he was willing to play along. “ _Crown_ Prince, and what were you? Oh right. An enchanted _manservant_ who can now go back to his _chores_.”  
  
“Yes Sire. Shall I go catch a rat to leave on your pillow?” Merlin huffed, half grinning, half-growling. Arthur felt a wash of relief. Merlin snarking was one of his touchstones; one of the signs that despite all his power and skill, Merlin was going to keep expecting him to be better than he was. That Morgana was going to tease him and Guinevere give him hidden, disappointed looks. He needed these things to counteract everyone who told him how amazing he was (all true of course), because he knew the folly of overconfidence in battle. Merlin was his favorite because he was there, and loud, and critical. And yet he still followed Arthur. He could have just left, gone home and helped his mom grow turnips or whatever it was peasants did when they were scraping away at the soil. Instead he stayed with Arthur and snarked at him and was a shoddy manservant, but a frighteningly good bodyguard when he wasn’t being sort of useless or suspiciously absent.  
  
“If you actually managed to catch anything more impressive than a butterfly I might actually be impressed.”  
  
“You used impress twice, also I am a very good ratter.” Merlin pouted at him, then snapped his teeth to showcase that he was, clearly, the Bane of Rodents.  
  
“I’m the Prince; I can do what I want. And I have yet to see any evidence of this skill. So far you’ve taken days to catch one rat, which, if I remember correctly, you made into a perfectly horrible stew.”  
  
Merlin had stalked angrily out before the servant came with breakfast.  
***  
Merlin (Bane of Rodents) was _too_ _v_ icious. He had powers! He could pounce and stalk and claw and bite and stalk and bat at, oh and he had magic too. He could make all of the rats in the castle come to _him_ , which was like stalking but more proactive and smarter. Because Merlin was smart as well as vicious. And he'd show Arthur how good a provider he was--ah that is how cunning a hunter. Merlin licked his kitten self-consciously. Not quite sure why it was so important that he have a kitten, but it was. Not with Arthur, that is Arthur was in no way related to this and if he was going to have kittens he would totally choose someone nice, smart and sensible like Morgana. Even if Arthur could teach the kittens how to stalk. But Merlin didn't need Arthur! He had great stalking prowess! PROWESS!  
  
The guards of Camelot were steadfast and strong. Not even the sight of the Prince's manservant with ears and a tail trying to sneak up on rats could phase them. They might note that the boy was a surprisingly good ratter. He always seemed to know where they gathered and managed to trap them.  
  
***  
  
The knights who found the sorceress had not dragged her screaming to the square and presented her to the king to be executed. Rather, they had kind of shuffled their feet awkwardly and sent one of their number to fetch Prince Arthur, who had come, coat swishing impressively behind him, prepared to face an old crone or powerful maid or some sort of stunningly attractive enchantress. He’s heard _stories_ about enchantresses.  
  
Instead, he got a little girl, because this was his life and it didn’t like him. She was about six, her hair done up in two braids and her dress clean and bright—if cheap. She had apologized tearfully for the accident, she apparently hadn’t meant to turn Merlin into a cat-boy, but rather had been trying to convince her family that she should be allowed to have a cat. As a pet. A normal one, one that was fluffy and adorable and would catch all the mean nasty rats in her house, and who would sleep in front of the fire. She went into great detail about it.  
  
Arthur might have been many things in his life, but a monster was not one of them and he did not wish to change that. He sent a knight to the city morgue to fetch a dead old woman, and presented her corpse to his father as the Sorceress. The true sorceress got a stern talking to, grounded, and ordered to help Gaius, in hopes that the healer might be able to focus her attentions in a more scientific mode of inquiry. Also, he was the best qualified to keep an eye on her, just in case she turned out to be a secretly evil six year old. One never could tell with these things.  
  
As it was, Merlin had completely regained his voice and most of his (deeply misguided) sense, and seemed to be mainly focused on hiding in embarrassment. So Arthur chalked it up to a win and went back to training his knights.  
  
Several hours later he strode into his room, followed by a running servant trying to carry all of his armor—to find Merlin sitting in the middle of his bed, with a giant pile of what looked to be every rat that had (once) lived in the castle.  
  
Merlin smiled smugly, “Told ya I was a good ratter.”  
  
“Off the bed. And I hope you have a plan to get that blood out of the sheets.”  
***  
  
  
That evening, when an earless Merlin sneaked into Arthur’s bed, he didn’t manage to do it silently; the grace of his feline half had disappeared rapidly and left an entirely Merlin-born clumsiness. Still….Arthur didn’t have the heart to discourage him, seeing as Merlin had gone through all the effort to show up. After all, perhaps he could use this as a reason to get Merlin pay more attention to the lessons on how to stalk deer (how he stalked even one rat, much less the huge pile of them, Arthur really didn’t know. He suspected Merlin had cheated somehow). It’s not that he wanted his pretty manservant to climb into his bed and wrap himself around Arthur, that would mean he wanted to…cuddle his manservant or something. Which was just ridiculous.  
  
As ridiculous as Merlin with cat ears and a tail, and just as impossible, or possible…as the case may be.  
  
  
Epilogue:  
Merlin walked the girl home after her stint with Gaius, as she was clearly too young to be out and about on her own. The first day she had apologized quite tearfully for turning him into a cat-boy. Merlin had assured her that it was okay, and had actually been rather fun. The rest of the days they walked through the city chattering happily, as the girl had taken to herbalist practices like an otter that had lived its whole life in the desert and then finally been introduced to a river. A week after being restored to human Merlin slipped Lady Dedee into the pocket of the girl's apron. After all, every family needed a good ratter, and the castle had plenty. Besides he knew that the girl was very enthusiastic about cats and would take good care of his kitten. Better care than Merlin, since Arthur seemed to have some sort of aversion to seeing Merlin with the kitten riding on his head or curled up on his shoulders. Which was silly since Arthur was the one who had given Merlin the kitten, but that was princes for you. Never made sense.  
  
He was keeping Sir Thomnas though.

* * *

 


End file.
